He looks down at me; his blue eyes seem so soft these days. “Thank you, Jenna.”
I think about all the people who’ve ever tried to make me feel small, and for once, none of them succeed.
“Just doing my job,” I say.
It sounds too final. Like a door clicking shut.
I open my mouth again because I’m not done, because there’s something else sitting at the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea what it is. Just that I don’t want this conversation to end now.
And then Livy comes flying down the corridor at full, unrestrained child velocity, a pink backpack bouncing wildly against her shoulders. Her blonde pigtails fly like wings.
“Daddy!” she cries, launching herself into his arms.
He catches her, lifts her high, and for a second even his grim mouth cracks into a full smile. And I grin too.
I don’t often see fathers like him. But when I do, there’s always this quiet, inconvenient wish that follows… small and sharp and impossible to ignore.
That I wish I had one like him myself.
Trailing behind Livy are Colton’s parents. Even though it’s the first time I’m seeing them, I could have picked them out of any crowd and known exactly who they were. He has his father’s height and posture, but his face is his mother’s.
Colton’s mother approaches me with surprising speed and hugs me. She’s really tiny. I can’t believe she gave birth to such a hunk. How?
“Solnyshko,” she says, and I wonder what this means but I don’t have time to ask, because another high-pitched sentence with a strong accent cuts through the air before I can even react. “Thank you for protecting our little girl. This means a lot to us.”
Before I can protest, she presses a napkin-wrapped muffin into my hand. “But you need to eat after such stressful work. I make for you—chocolate and cherry.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kirillov,” I manage, trying not to crush it against my legal folder.
She beams, then turns to Livy. “You want fun park,da? I take you while Daddy talks to his lawyer.”
But Livy shakes her head, arms tightening around herself. “No. We go together. He promised.”
I watch his mom throw some rapid Russian sentences at him that sound like the gentle bubbling of a pot about to boil over.
My assistant, who has suddenly materialized beside me, checks his phone and gives me a thumbs up. “All set with the paperwork. You want me to file the supplementary evidence now or wait for the call from Judge Brennan’s office?”
“Now,” I say, handing him the updated files. “And pull the list of neutral witnesses. I want to start prepping them before opposing counsel can get them in their heads.”
He salutes—actually salutes, the idiot—then vanishes toward the elevators.
“I don’t know if we can leave right away,” I hear Colton say to Livy. “Or if I need to quickly sort something out with my lawyer first, but we’ll go right after that, okay baby?”
Livy turns to me like I’m personally responsible for the delay. Her glare is small, but devastating in a very concentrated, child-specific way. But it’s not her father’s fault. He can’t help it. He doesn’t know how these court things work.
“We should probably still take care of a few things,” I say softly, trying to ease the tension I didn’t ask for.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Colton’s mother extend her arms toward Livy, warm and hopeful, but Livy just shakes her head and clings even tighter to Colton instead. There’s something telling in it. Like someone taught her that if she let’s go of him, she can’t see him for a while.
And I don’t like the thought that follows.
That she’s been pulled away before many, many times.
That instinct alone makes my chest tighten.
I don’t want to take her from him again. Not even a little.
Then an idea flickers into place.
